


One of Us has to Remember

by whouffaldigarbage



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:25:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whouffaldigarbage/pseuds/whouffaldigarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of panic at the end of time, just before he prepares to wipe Clara's memory, the Doctor goes back in time to Clara Oswald, alive and well. Before she died. Before she lost her pulse. When she was just his Clara. Turns out he's not the only one who misses what they used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Us has to Remember

It had been a decision made in a moment. Clara had just left the classic TARDIS to see Ashildr as the end of the universe crumbled around them. He went to stand alone at the console, unable to tolerate another minute in the immortal’s presence. He was about to lose Clara all over again. This time, it was worse than forever. It would be like she never existed. She wouldn’t be there. The hole that she filled would become empty and he wouldn’t know why. But perhaps the pain would stop. How could he miss someone he couldn’t remember?  
The time spent in the confession dial. The moments of weakness he tried to swear off. The suffocating tears. The feeling that his chest would crack from screaming in in utter agony of memory. The numbness that somehow set every pain receptor in his body on fire when he thought of her, which was always.  
He stared at the memory wipe device laying on the console before him. His mind was screaming. He couldn’t let her go. Let the world burn. Let the universe crumble to ash, and him along with it. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. He needed her now. He needed more time.  
Time.  
He could swear his heartbeat stopped for a moment as the idea slammed into him like a tidal wave. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? A ripple. He’d be back before Ashildr and this no-pulse Clara had the chance to ask where he’d gone. He could spend a lifetime away from this moment and return to it whenever he liked. He was a Time Lord. To hell with rules, he’d broken enough already, what was one more?  
With deft and shaking fingers, he punched in the time and date followed by the location on the keypad. Trembling digits wound their way around the lever to execute the travel. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds. Then he pulled, hard. The rhythmic grinding shook the TARDIS around him and he gripped the console to hold on, it was much stronger than his TARDIS, probably due to its age. Rusty. Would it even work?  
The lights began flashing around him. He felt the sensation of spinning and speed for several long seconds, before a loud boom that sounded the arrival nearly knocked him off of his feet. He straightened himself nervously and went to the door. Peering out, he found the exterior of the TARDIS to be cloaked to look like a 60s American diner. How embarrassing. Luckily he’d parked in an abandoned construction site. With his sonic sunglasses, he activated the invisible masking for the TARDIS so it wouldn’t be seen or felt by anyone. Pocketing the glasses, he stared up at the apartment complex opposite him. If the TARDIS had landed him correctly, he was a little over a year back in time. After Robin Hood, that much was certain, as the leaves on the trees were in peak fall color.  
Before he knew it, he was standing outside of her door. His hearts were pounding in his chest, he was practically vibrating. He couldn’t let her know. She couldn’t know he was from the future, he couldn’t tell her where he’d just come from. What happened to her. Before anything in the past year and a half. He almost turned around on the spot. How could he lie to her? How could he not tell her? How could he not reciprocate everything she’d told him privately in the cloisters? Did she feel that way about him now, in this time stream?  
His hands numbly knocked on the door. He wanted to see her alive. With a pulse. Thinking through all of this was madness.  
Silence on the other side of the door, then the light sound of shuffling feet. He tried desperately to control his shaking. The top lock clicked open, the bottom clicked. He swallowed hard. The door opened, and there she was staring at him. He forgot to breathe.  
“D’you have any idea what time it is?” her brown eyes glowered at him beneath her knitted brow.  
“T-time?” he managed hoarsely after far too long of a pause.  
“For a Time Lord you’re chronically awful at the Time bit.”  
He just stared at her, drinking her in.  
“It’s one am.” She continued, “That’s bedtime for most normal people who have jobs that require them to wake up at six. Now you better be standing on my threshold with a damned good reason, Doctor.”  
I missed you desperately. I’m about to lose you forever and I can’t bear the thought so here I am.  
“I was….” Oh crickey he didn’t think this through at all. “The TARDIS is malfunctioning. I thought I might stay here tonight.”  
“Malfunctioning?” she asked, sudden concern in her tone as she stepped aside to let him in.  
“Yeah, the something is doing a thing and I can’t use it right now.”  
“Two thousand years old and you’re no better than any man with a vehicle I swear….” She muttered as she slid past him in the hall towards the living room. Her arm brushed his chest as she walked by and a shiver knocked down his spine. He followed her, not wanting to let her out of his sight. She stood over the couch fluffing up several pillows. “I have an extra comforter in the hall closet you can use.”  
She looked up at him when he didn’t move to fetch it. Her face suddenly softened. “Doctor, is everything alright?” she was before him in an instant.  
“Fine.” He said though his voice broke. He swallowed hard. Looking into her gigantic brown eyes nearly pushed him over the edge. Her hand had found its way into his.  
“Something’s the matter, what’s happened? What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this, talk to me.” She insisted.  
He was so obviously in pain and he hadn’t even been in her presence for a minute. He couldn’t do this. It was too hard. “Nothing, nothing. I should go—“  
“No, come here, hey?” she tugged him closer and reached up to brush his cheek where a tear had fallen. He cursed himself. “Stay with me.” She said softly. Her words shook him to his core. They were his last words to her. He reached out quickly and pulled her into a fierce embrace to hide the rush of emotion and tears cracking across his face. She didn’t seem at all surprised at the sudden hug. One of her hands was stroking his hair, the other brushing his back. She held him just as tightly. “It’s okay, Doctor. I’m here. Nothing else matters right now.” She whispered against his neck.  
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Holding each other fiercely and tenderly without saying a word. Eventually, they parted, after what seemed like hours, but she held his hand. “Come on,” she smiled, looking up at him with those big eyes of hers. “No couch for you tonight.”  
She led him down the hall and into her bedroom, where on side of the bed the sheets and comforter were thrown back when he’d woken her up from sleep. “Clara I’m sorry,”  
“Shush.” She said. “I don’t think I have any pajamas that will fit you…” she turned to rummage through her dresser, which left him standing in the room not holding her hand, and it tingled where her touch had been. “Here,” she held up a worn grey David Bowie shirt. “This ought to fit. As for bottoms, I think I have an old pair of Danny’s around here somewhere…ah! Here you are” she tossed a pair of black sweatpants at him.  
“Clara—”  
“I’ll hear no complaints about wearing P.E.s pajamas. They’ve had a wash. Nor will I hear any complaints from you about decency or any of that utter nonsense, you’re sleeping with me tonight in here. I want to make sure you’re alright. Now change you silly boy.” She crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head. “See? I’m preserving your chastity or whatever.”  
A smiled flickered at the corners of his lips as he took off his jacket, sweater, pull-over, and tee shirt, idly wondering why he wore so many layers. He pulled on the Bowie shirt, then after removing his shoes and trousers, he put on the sweatpants that were too baggy on his skinny frame. He eyed her form under the covers and his hearts fluttered. The words they’d said to each other in the cloisters echoed in his head. But this Clara hadn’t said them. Future Clara had. He walked round the bed and slipped in quietly, pulling the covers over him.  
A shifting from her side of the bed and suddenly her arm was around his stomach and her head was on his chest. Her hair brushed his neck. His hearts pounded—god she’d have to be deaf not to hear them. “Night, you.” She yawned against him. “You’ll be alright, hey? Everything will be alright. Don’t worry about whatever was upsetting you. Things have a way of working out in the end.” He snaked an arm around her shoulders, and his other came round to rest on the arm she had on his waist. He wanted to be as close to her as possible. He never wanted to let her go, not for anything.  
Sleep eventually overcame him, after two solid hours of watching her sleep against him. He was overcome with a feeling of profound contentment. As if everything he’d lived through up until this moment had been a dream. Perhaps he would never go back. He wouldn’t ever have to lose her. They could stay like this, forever.  
He awoke to the birds chirping outside, and at first he was confused. Then everything came back to him. Everything. A mixture of anger, sadness, and tempered joy. He turned to look down at her, but noticed she was gone. The sound of something sizzling in the kitchen notified him of her presence, so he got out of bed and padded down the hall. He leaned on the doorway to the kitchen and watched her from behind as she stood before the stove.  
“You’re up,” she said, without turning around to greet him as she flipped an omelet.  
“Sorry for last night. I appreciate you caring for me. I was in a state.”  
“Caring for you?” she asked, “Doctor, I came home this morning and found you in my bed.” She turned to face him for the first time. She still had those sheep dog bangs from last year that cut across her forehead, not the side swept style like…she had last night. “Was everything alright? I was over at Danny’s all night, you should have called. When did you hair get that long?”  
The Doctor felt as if the world beneath his feet had given way. He stumbled backwards and retreated to the bedroom. His eyes fell on the bed. The side of the bed where he slept was unkempt, but the side where she had slept was neatly folded. Something rested on her pillow and he went towards it. It was a note, scrawled in her handwriting.  
“I found these coordinates in the TARDIS when I got it, and I knew this must have been where you escaped to for that moment at the end of the universe. I haven’t seen you in eighteen hundred years. I’ve been exploring the universe and having more adventures than I could ever count. I suppose I had a good teacher. But this was my last trip. I said I would go back to Gallifrey and I meant it. I just took the long way round.  
You are going to forget me, Doctor. You have to. It breaks my heart because I was the one who had to live with that. But that’s why you’re doing it. You’re giving me the chance to live, and I will always love you for that. Don’t tell me when you go back to the future. Pretend you don’t know what will happen. And please, whatever you do, don’t change it. Not for one moment. Don’t let me forget you, One of us has to remember. And I did.  
Your Clara  
PS: Keep the Bowie shirt. It’s mine, not past-Clara’s, so she won’t miss it. I think you’ll want it in a bit.


End file.
